


And I Thought Cupid Used Arrows

by steveelotaku



Category: Sentinels of the Multiverse (Card Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cowgirl Position, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, Love at First Sight, Missionary Position, Unexpected Visitors, Wall Sex, expatriette has a seriously dirty mouth, more like love at first shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveelotaku/pseuds/steveelotaku
Summary: Expatriette first met Setback when she accidentally shot him.It was love at first shot.Now, six years have passed since the OblivAeon crisis. Rook City is quiet, Dark Watch has had very little to do, and Expatriette has a very special mission in mind for tonight.Infiltrating Setback's pants.Of course, this being Setback, very little goes as planned...





	And I Thought Cupid Used Arrows

_Rook City._

My city. My home.

                The rain is pouring down like hell, and I keep telling myself I should be sipping gin and tonics and nursing my wounds. I’ve got an ugly pattern of bruises forming somewhere along my spine. The slight hitch in my step tells me I’ve strained my leg, probably from dodging Fright Train as he went through a building. There’s a cut forming on my forearm from a piece of shrapnel—I’ll have to get that removed later.

                There’s no nights off when evil’s out there. I keep pencilling in sleeping shifts, and Legacy tells me I need more time off, but I tell him that _evil_ doesn’t take time off either.

                Lightning flashes and I twitch involuntarily. A second later, I correct my course, and soon a nice explosive round is blowing Ermine off her perch into the arms of a waiting Wraith. 

                My name is Amanda Cohen, alias Expatriette.

                Some loser named Baron Blade has decided he’s had enough of the Freedom Five, and to that end, he’s put together a team called the Vengeful Five. Since I don’t want him getting away with killing people who are supposedly my friends, I’m here sitting on a rooftop looking down the scope of a sniper rifle. Which, to be frank, is probably what I’d be doing on a Saturday night anyway.

                “Expatriette,” a voice crackles from the radio. “We could use some help down here, if you’re not too busy. Fright Train is out cold, but we’re still in the thick of it.”

                “I’m on it, Legacy,” I reply. “I’ll be there quick.”

                “Fall, heroes! You’ll never match the technological superiority of…the Revenant!”

                I see some dork in what I can only assume is power armour—it’s not exactly uncommon, but it is enough that I rarely have to use more than regular ammo to take down even the toughest criminals. This guy, though—he’s tearing it up big time. I try to tune out his annoying ranting, something about how Betamax should have replaced VHS? I don’t know. Listening to villain banter just…bores me. You gotta let ‘em rant for a while so you can line up the perfect shot, though.

                I chamber a lightning round. Just the thing to fry his suit and let the good guys drag him to jail easily. Now, if they’d consulted me, I would have picked an anti-tank round. There’d be no risk of future escapes, but as Legacy ever so gently reminds me, I’m supposed to be a hero now.

                “Hey, get out of the way!”

                “Sorry!”

                There’s some kind of screaming going down below, some guy just stumbling around, muttering “sorry” every few seconds as the block seems to be tearing itself apart. Either he’s the world’s least competent supervillain, or the poor schmuck just got his powers.

                I’m almost in disbelief at the fact that this nobody has, so far, managed to accidentally knock over a water tower onto Bunker, throw Ermine into Legacy’s face, and nearly unmask the Wraith running by. He’s tangled in her bandages, and she’s frantically trying to cut them without exposing her identity.

                I take aim again. I can’t let him distract me.

                Revenant’s a sitting duck now. I just gotta—

                -BANG-

                Wait, why is he still standing?

                “Expatriette?” Legacy’s voice rings in my earpiece. “We’ve got a problem.”

                My heart sinks, the way my dad did when he died. Slowly. Painfully. My lightning rounds are designed to short-circuit power armour. My mind swims with nightmarish visions of a freshly-charred corpse, smoking in the rain-soaked streets. I imagine all the people I’ll have to face, the families I’ll have to explain to because I can’t run from that guilt anymore.

                I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the body and find he’s not charred at all.

                It’s that spectacularly unlucky guy from earlier—and he’s just had the biggest lucky break ever, because _somehow_ he’s still breathing.

                He looks up at me, looks up at the horror and guilt in my eyes. These two innocent eyes look up into my one good eye, and my heart seizes for a moment before he speaks.

                “Wow, you’re a really good shot…and _really_ pretty…” he slurs, and falls asleep.

                --

                I don’t know why I spent so long at his bedside. My rational mind was telling me I had so many more important things to do—the machines would help his healing quickly, and he didn’t actually need me, but…

                …there I was.

                I looked into those delicate eyes, that honest smile that never wavered, even in the face of unimaginable agony. I looked at them like I’d never see anything like it before.

                “Hey, Amanda?” Legacy asked, derailing my train of thought. “Will you be here much longer?”

                “I think so,” I said, not knowing what else to. “I feel responsible.”

                “You needn’t. His powers…are a blessing and a curse. I take it you’ve read his file?”

                “Pete Riske, right? Ex-blackjack dealer, Baron Blade test subject?”

                “The file isn’t finished, but the point is, he has the power of rapidly shifting luck. He’ll go through hell and back, suffer every imaginable setback, and then when the hour is at its darkest, he’ll pull through and win the day.”

                “Is that why he got shot?”

                “It would seem so, yes. Actually, he did you a favour—by taking the bullet, he prevented a large shockwave of energy that would have destroyed a city block. Apparently, Revenant had borrowed one of Baron Blade’s little toys. You know, the fun ones that zap you if you hit them? Only, they aren’t meant for use with tech like Revenant’s, so…”

                “Dodged a bullet there,” I muttered.

                “Well, _he_ didn’t,” Legacy remarks, almost smiling.

                Pete’s features settled into a calm smile, and as Legacy left, I realized something.

                My heart was pounding.

                I looked around for a threat, my hands reaching instinctively for Pride and Prejudice, the two pistols that have seen me through more scrapes than I care to think.

                But there’s no threat.

                Nothing.

                Just…this. Just that smile.

                --

                _Six years later._

So Rook City’s rebuilding. OblivAeon is gone.

                And Pete’s now calling himself Setback. We’ve even got a little super team going. Dark Watch.

                …and we may or may not have been trying to date.

                There’s not really an official headquarters for Dark Watch, not anymore at least. Since the city’s rebuilding, it’s basically “agree to arrive at whatever rooftop we can agree on.” Now, though, most of the villains have gone quiet, and so we often get more time to ourselves.

                Which is why I’m at a seedy motel with Setback right now. I’d feel more comfortable if I was here to bust heads with him.  I can picture us taking down drug dealers, or some of the Chairman’s creeps. Maybe tussle with Plague Rat, or a revived Spite, or something like that. Any of those would be less intimidating than what I’m here to do. This is the kind of place where dreams go to die, and yet, here I am, trying to make all of mine come true.

                I’m made of contradictions.

                I’ve spent the last few months and years with death constantly at my side. The universe nearly ending has certainly put the fear of whatever god is out there in me, and for once my tight black outfit isn’t making me feel like an invincible badass. As much of an utter sociopath as my mom was, she had a point—I’m mortal. I’m very, very human.

                And so, that’s why I’m here with Setback, hoping to screw his brains out before someone blows out mine.

                “Amanda, babe, something’s on your mind,” he says, idly. God, the way those muscles just push at that tight little shirt of his. It’s taking all my restraint to not just start climbing him like a tree. Then again, I just wanna make sure his powers don’t make this worse than it has to be.

                “I’m…alright, Pete,” I lie. “I guess it’s just the rebuilding. And, well, being a team player. It isn’t my style.”

                “Mom never taught you to play with others?” Pete says, his foot rapidly going into his mouth. He recognizes it too, not just because I turn crimson. “Oh, hell, sorry! I keep forgetting your mom was Citizen Dawn…”

                “It’s okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I try to forget, too. I’m gonna chalk that one up to bad luck.”

                Pete shrugs.

                “Misfortune of the coyote. That’s what my ex told me.”

                “Anyone I’d know?”

                “Yeah…Kismet.”

                I swallow hard. _Kismet_. I remember a really bad fight with her a few months back. I kept missing all my shots, all while she taunted me like some schoolyard bully. It took Legacy hitting her from behind when she got cocky, then throwing her amulet around the curvature of the earth, for us to get any leeway. Kismet is everything I hate about supers. Everything. She’s got life handed to her on a silver platter, but all she can think about is how to take more with the powers she doesn’t deserve.

                Thinking about someone like her getting her claws into sweet little Pete is giving me all kinds of pleasant daydreams of putting a .45 round in her head. As is, though, maybe I’ll just settle for fire. Or lightning. Something less than lethal for a super-bitch like her to chew on without Legacy complaining.

                “She cursed me,” he goes on, sighing a cute little sigh. “I mean, I hate to complain, but…she just got so mad at me for not being more upset she was leaving. I didn’t want to cry, so I just…smiled and hoped for the best. And so now I’ve got really screwy luck. I’m grateful Freedom Five and Dark Watch took me in, because you know I couldn’t keep a job.”

                I fidget with my gun belt and I take it off, resting it on the badly battered vanity in the room. Once, this place might have been a charming old hotel. Now, it’s the epitome of squalor, with peeling linoleum, cracked walls, and hasty patch jobs that do a bad job of hiding that the whole place is barely up to code. Looking at Setback, I get the feeling he’s in the same boat that this hotel and I are in. We’re barely holding together, but we’re not going anywhere.

                “I…” I gasp, barely a sound coming out. “I…god, she makes me so mad. I’ve nearly lost you so many times and she just threw you away.”

                “She was moving away anyway. But you’re right…no great loss.”

                “Wow, between your ex and my mom…we’ve got a lot in common with people leaving, huh?”

                “Well, you left, technically.”

                “Only ‘cause death was the alternative,” I sigh.

                I move closer. I try to be a bit sensual in the walk; put a little sway in my hips, flip back my hair like a badass, and flutter my eyelashes. It all feels so fake, but I just want to feel sexy for someone who stole my cold, blackened little heart. I haven’t taken off a stitch of clothing, but without my guns I feel naked. It’s dangerous. It’s exciting.

                It’s terrifying and I haven’t even said much more than small talk.

                “Hey, Pete…think we could…”

                “Yes, Amanda?” he asks, standing up and going to meet me halfway.

                I stumble, and he’s there to catch me immediately. Even as I fall, he’s there, strongly carrying me up—something I normally hate, but…

                …is his hand seriously on my tits?!         

                “Pete. Thanks for the hand, but—“ I spit through gritted teeth.

                He blushes crimson.

                “Oh geez, Amanda, I’m sorry! I’m just so clumsy…”

                I feel a slight chill as he takes his hand away.

                “That’s better, now—EEEK!”

                Setback is in full bad luck mode. There’s no doubt about it.

                Because now he’s gone and torn my top off, and while I was wanting to lose it, I was hoping I’d get to take it off in a slow, seductive way that’d drive any memory of that precious little ho Kismet out of his head. Instead, all I can think about is a sleazy little Expatriette pinup book someone posted on deviantart a while back. I’m a target of humiliation art more often than not, and it’s only just starting to die down now that I may or may not have tased a guy I caught posting it.

                Like, as _if_ Fright Train could _ever_ top me.

                Fair disclosure—I’m not the bustiest of supers. I can go braless without breaking my own back, and I don’t even have powers. But I still have a big enough chest for people to _notice_ , and while Pete’s an angel…

                “I’m sorry!” he says again, blushing and looking away. “Here, let me—“

                _Spang. Rustle._

At that moment, his costume catches on the edge of his night table, and the belt buckle breaks. A jagged shard cuts through his tights and little black shorts.  And suddenly, all the blood rushes to my head. He’s blushing but I’m not sure who has it—

                I take a look between his legs and let out a low whistle.

                “Is that a shotgun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

                Dude is packing a _lot_ more than I expected. He’s about a good eight inches and he’s not even hard yet. My inner fangirl wants to be all over that like I’m fieldstripping an assault rifle, but I’m telling myself to hold back, not to get my hopes up, not to dare want more.

                But I dare.

                “Let me help you with that,” I purr softly, taking a small measure of satisfaction in watching Pete’s features flush. I reach over and gently remove the jagged metal from around his waist. Peeling the rest of his tights away, I take a look down his leg, teasingly moving his cock aside to check for cuts. Nothing. Just a slight red line that might bruise.

                It occurs to me that I might be leaning a bit far over, and sure enough, the bed’s springs are creaking.  I try to stand, but instead, the bed bounces me on top of him.

                “I think my powers are trying to tell us something,” he says, his dorky voice suddenly smooth as silk and my panties suddenly very, very, wet.

                “Then shut up and let them talk,” I tease back, letting him slide my shorts down as I climb on top of him. He gently sits up, and I’m tempted to push him back down, but his soft kiss is enough to make me melt. I let out a faint moan, pulling him into a tighter kiss, feeling his delicate lips against mine—and they are _delicate_. These are almost never-been-kissed lips. I’m guessing Kismet didn’t like doing much in the romance department, which is just as well, because little possessive shoulder devil Expatriette is feeling really proud that she’s holding his tight little ass now.

                “I have to know,” I moan, gently stroking his cock, trying to get it nice and hard. He’s perfectly shaved, which makes things considerably easier. “I have to know, Pete. Why did you push me away for so long? It’s clear we’ve both wanted this.”

                He moans and I can feel a measure of hardness creep into his length. His chest rises and falls, a soft gasp escaping from his mouth as my nails rake down his chest.

                “I’m trouble,” he gasps, but I dig my nails in more until I can hear him whimper softly and feel his hard length against my palm. I press a gentle kiss to the head of his cock, rubbing it a bit before taking it in my mouth.  I hum softly, my tongue dextrously working down the shaft. It’s a lot to take in my mouth—and I haven’t got the biggest mouth to begin with—but I don’t care. It’s worth suppressing my gag reflex for. “I mean, just—“

                I gag. Hard. I wasn’t expecting him to go to a full ten-and-a-half inches in my mouth so _fast_.

                “S-So am I!” I sputter, trying to salvage my sexiness and failing utterly. “Pete, can’t you see I don’t care about the danger? I mean, where do you think I live?”

                “Rook City?” he says, in a tone that is so infuriatingly ambiguous I can’t tell if he’s being genuinely naïve or if he’s ribbing me.

                “On the edge!” I protest.

                “Nah, Rook City,” he says, grinning. “Now, you’re welcome to get on my edge…”

                My legs spread and I bite my lip. I reach over to my bag, sitting on the floor, and pull out a small bottle of lube.

                “Not the kind of lubricant you usually use, huh?”

                “Damn it, Pete,” I say, sighing, but I giggle a bit. He _is_ being cute. My heartbeat may be still hammering away, but it’s starting to slow somewhat now that he’s laughing.

                People often ask me what I see in Setback. Okay, that’s not entirely true. They don’t ask, but they clearly want to, and would if they didn’t think I’d shoot them for it. I think I can see why, though. At first glance, Setback is, well, trouble. He’s a walking disaster area. Nobody wants anything to do with him if they can help it—and only _Guise_ is more disliked in terms of “help.”

                The thing is, though, I’ve been there. I’ve been where he is. How many times did I get it rubbed in my face I’d never be worth anything because I had no powers? How many nights have I spent in rooms like this one, staring up sleeplessly at the ceiling, wondering whether to just throw in the towel? Dark Watch is made up of outcasts, and we more than qualify.

                The other thing, though—Setback has saved my life on several occasions, even just as much as I’ve saved his. It’s hard to not develop a strong connection when that happens. So that’s why I’m with him. All of this. It’s all parts of a whole. My whole life has been putting together a weapon, putting together a gun I can shoot at my past and finally put it all behind me.

                I’m not Citizen Dawn’s flawed little girl anymore.

                As I mount Pete, I bite my lip hard. It occurs to me I’ve never _done_ this before. I know the theory, I know everything I _should_ do, but it’s very different from the practical. After lubing him up and getting everything ready (can’t believe I had to remember the condom), I lower myself onto him gently, letting him fill me up. Grabbing his shoulders for support (which isn’t hard to do—Baron Blade’s little experiment gave him ones that almost rival Legacy’s), I take more and more of him.

                Okay, ow. Nobody told me that this was gonna hurt—oh, of course the Internet wasn’t going to say it, especially not when a guy wrote the article.

                “You know if you pose like that while you’re going down,” Pete says, “it’s gonna hurt a lot more.”

                I frown.

                “The training and research I did—“

                “Babe, PornHub doesn’t count as research.”

                “Okay, so I did look at some more practical things, but—“

                He smiles that genuine smile, and I almost hate him for it.

                “Are you worried about impressing me? You don’t have to, you know.  You already have.”

                I sigh and relax a bit as I change position to something more comfortable but far less alluring and ideal.

                “If this is about Kismet,” he says, “trust me when I say that you don’t have to worry about beating her at _anything_. We kissed once or twice, maybe. That was it. She was kinda just detached about the whole thing. She liked being worshiped more than returning the favour, y’know?”

                “So,” I say, panting. “I could just lie here like a dead fish and be just as hot to you?”

                “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you did more than that, but, uh, yeah, basically. Kismet could pose and flirt, but the moment it came to acting like a human being, she’d just lock up.”

                I kiss him.

                “I don’t lock up. I lock ‘n’ load.”

                Feeling him inside me reminds me, though, that I’ve got a lot I still want to do tonight, and so I start slowly riding him, trying to keep balance. I’m not short, but the bed we’re on is still pretty big, and the springs are all busted, making equilibrium a tricky, tricky thing. No way in hell we’re going on the floor, though—the bed looks bad enough as it is.

                Under the harsh, neon lighting outside that’s pouring through the broken blinds, our bodies tangle and draw close, desperate for a warmth that seems so far away. I can feel his hands on my chest, gently caressing my breasts, tracing patterns down my ribs, over long-faded bruises. Lightning flashes as I let him overtake me, putting down my guard slowly but surely as I let him pin me down. The proud warrior inside demands I fight, but for once in my life I don’t want to. He gently licks at my neck, nibbling softly along my shoulder, and I feel my back starting to arch from his thrusts.

                My hair almost blends with the light, the purple not a far-off shade from the seedy magenta light of the strip club across the street. Over there, dirty money is doubtless being exchanged. Drugs are being peddled, hits are being ordered.

                They can wait for one night.

                I pull his shirt off, gasping a bit as his thrust comes on a bit more powerful than usual. He’s at full thickness now, and I’m feeling a bit tighter than I’d like.  I start fingering my clit, hoping to give him a hint, and to his credit, he’s a bit more observant than most.

                He pulls out, to my shock.  I’m about to protest, but he holds up one finger and slips down to slide a finger inside me.  He starts to curl it upward, slightly—

                --oh my _god._

I’m twitching, suddenly. He’s strong, I’d forgotten how strong, but…

                There’s almost a vibratory quality to his touch. He’s using his super-strength to—

                My pussy is totally drenched. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass. All sense of pride and arrogance leaves me as I let out what could only be call a mewling noise, like a kitten. I’m purring and gasping at his touch.

                “P-Pete…” I moan, reaching up for him.

                He smiles.

                God help me, that _smile._ I feel even wetter and more helpless just looking at it.

                And that’s when he slips his cock back in, still rubbing at my clit.

                “Baby…” I moan. “How close are you to coming?”

                “Give it a bit,” he says. “I’m almost there.”

                “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” I admit, honestly. “You’ve got me almost there, too.”

                “Take your time.”

                I wrap my legs around his waist and buck upwards, desperate for more.

                And that’s when he picks me up and pins me against the wall, spreading my legs and holding my arms up and apart.

                All the air leaves my lungs.

                “You bad little boy,” I say, once I can breathe again. “You are so, so, gonna need spanking after this.”

                “Take me over your knee, Amanda. I won’t fight.”

                _Fuck me, he’s good._

                He thrusts, and I can feel the cheap drywall give a little behind me. It’s gonna leave a mark in the morning. Against a wall, someone as strong as he is is gonna hurt a little.

                But I’m a big girl. I can take a little pain.

                My whole body is shivering, both from the lack of heat and from pleasure. My thighs are slick and wet, but I don’t want him to stop. As he fucks me senseless against the wall, I’m just moaning and clinging to him.  My eyepatch starts to slip and I pause a moment to tear it from my face. It’s an ugly, ugly scar underneath, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, and when I’m arching my back, at least my bangs hide the worst of it.

                “I think I’m going to come, baby…”

                “Don’t you dare, Pete! I’m only just getting started!”

                I’m hoping his luck holds out a little longer because this is easily the best I’ve felt in a long, long time.

                So naturally the door bursts open right as he climaxes.

                Suddenly, he falls off of me. I lose my footing.

                And, of fucking course, it’s Kismet at the door.

                “Don’t you fucking knock?” I spit. “For fuck’s sake, I’m off duty, if you’ve got beef go bother Legacy!”

                “You suck cock with that filthy mouth?” she taunts, cocking her hips and making most of the lights in the room blow out with a burst of bad luck. “My, my. Little Pete. How his standards have dropped.”

                Pete, to his credit, is on his feet, and he grabs the nearest object for self-defence.

                Which is a decorative ashtray.

                Rolling ones, little buddy. Snake eyes.

                I look to my gun, but it’s too far right now.  I need a distraction, and I’m far too naked and far too fucked to be able to make a quick dash, at least not while she’s looking.

                She isn’t looking at me, or my gun, though.  I realize that soon enough when I glance down at Pete’s cock. He’s just smirking at her.

                “Miss me, Gabby? I can’t say the same.”

                She’s getting really angry, both from Pete’s little quip…and his less than little asset.

                “Oh my god, no fair!” Kismet fumes. “You had like a five inch dick when I met you! How’d you get so big?! How’d you give it to _her_ and not me?! You seriously traded me for burnt, damaged goods?”

                “I’d say it’s trading up,” I quip.

                “Not to mention, let’s just say I didn’t appreciate your going-away present,” Pete says, casually tossing the ashtray. “I mean, come on, a curse?  That’s just petty, even for high school.”

                Kismet is so busy fuming at her bad luck that she doesn’t see the ashtray coming.  It hits square between the eyes and knocks her flat on her back. I leapfrog Pete’s shoulders and land on the vanity, grabbing Pride and Prejudice, cocking both.

                “You have five seconds to leave, Kismet, before I ventilate you.”

                She looks back in horror. A naked, heavily scarred badass superheroine, screwing her ex, and making a complete fool of her with the same curse she’d given him. Today isn’t a great day to be Kismet.

                “I’m going,” she fumes, storming out and trying to do another curse—but walking into a low-hanging chandelier on the way out and knocking herself clean out.

                I sigh. Now we’re going to have to get the proper authorities involved.

                “Ugh, I could still go for a second round…” I mutter.

                “Nothing’s stopping us,” Pete points out. “She’ll be out cold for a while. Leave her cuffed to the radiator outside the room and call the Freedom Five to deal with it. Hell, get the Wraith to do it, she won’t mind.”

                I place a call and then settle back into bed with Pete.

                Curiously enough, the moment I do, I lose a bit of the drive.  I don’t know what it is, but I feel this urge just to settle in and cuddle.

                After a while, Pete speaks up. He’s been caressing me the whole time, gently kissing me every now and then, but I can tell he’s been lost in thought.

                “You okay, Amanda? I’m sorry about that.”

                “It’s not your fault. Just…thanks for the save.”

                “I wish our pasts didn’t have to force their way back to us so often.”

                I snuggle into his chest.

                “Y’know, I’m not used to you being so cuddly, Amanda.”

                “I’m not normally. Guess you’re just getting lucky tonight.”

                “I got lucky the moment you shot me.”

                I sit up with a start.

                “You remember that?”

                “How could I not? I saw the bullet coming at me before it hit. Just barely. Then I saw you standing over me and I had the biggest crush of my life.”

                “I...I…”

                “Admit it, baby. There were plenty of reasons to not invite me to join Dark Watch. Am I wrong that you invited me for more than just a sense of right and wrong?”

                Crimson. Again. I can’t be happier to know that Kismet is unconscious and not able to see me looking like some punk kid getting told their crush loves them.

                Which is what I am, but fuck it.

                “No…no you’re not.”

                “I kinda suspected, because you asked me out for the first time not long after you got shot and I kept you safe. It was kinda like a Cupid moment, both times.”

                I giggle softly as his hands gently ghost over the nape of my neck.

                “You hopeless romantic…”

                “And I thought Cupid used arrows,” he says, before pulling me into another kiss.

                --

                Morning comes far too soon for my liking. Now, it’s back to civilian clothes, back to preparing for the coming night’s crimefighting, back to routine.

                I don’t want to go back to it, for once. I don’t want to head back home, and I tell Pete just as much.

                “Last night was the best I’ve felt since I was a kid,” I say, flatly. “I know how sad that must seem—“

                “It’s not sad,” he replies. “Come stay at my place for a bit. We can watch a movie together. We can have something warm to drink in all this rainy weather before we get down to training.”

                I hang my head.

                “Amanda?”

                “Thank you…” I whisper, looking up at him, with the ghost of a tear in my eye.

                The night, and the city, can wait.

                For now, I’ve got everything I want.

               

 

               

                 

               

               

               


End file.
